


Eastern Lost

by Aliea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-03 12:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10245341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliea/pseuds/Aliea
Summary: John’s motorcade got attacked, he was taken and dumped in the middle of the desert with no water, weapon or any idea of how far he was to help.This an AU, a first meeting and who knows what else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is bad, really really bad. I have so many other stories to finish but my god this one will not leave and I can write! Seriously writers block is hell and it has been so nice to write.
> 
> So I think this will take the same format as Loud and Clear, short chapters written mostly in dialogue.
> 
> Anyways enjoy.

If there was one thing John hated about the desert, about the war it was the sand. The sand just got everywhere, in his shoes, socks, underwear, hair, eyes, even his ears and no matter how much he tried to clean it off it just seemed to get worse. So now that he seemed to be lost in the middle of no where, sand all around him, the sun beating down hard on his neck with no trace of civilisation he decided that the sand would be the very end of him.

He had been out in the sun now for hours, his transport having been attacked and he himself taken and then dumped in the god forsaken desert left to die with out a drop of water or a weapon. Even his clothing had been stripped from him, leaving him in his just his trousers, boots and a t-shirt, his jacket having been worn by some Afghan dummass having a laugh over the fact that it was so small on even him.

So now all he could do was walk and hope, hope that he would find water or something that would somehow get back to the camp and to a nice cold shower to get rid of the damn sand!

As the sun reached the highest point in the sky John pulled his shirt from his body and wrapped it round his head, making sure to cover his neck and shoulders in a style he had seen many of his men do whenever they had to spend time out in the sun. All he wished for now was water, just a drop, oh and shade...oh how he wanted shade.

Trying his hardest not to lick his lips he made his way to the top of yet another dune and stopped to catch his breath as he looked around, but nothing had changed from the last dune he had climbed. Sighing he sat with the sun to his back, his shirt offering a little shade but not really allowing him to cool down. But he needed to rest, if only for five minutes. 

.~.~.~.~.

The sun setting was welcome, that is until the cold set in and the t-shirt that was his his shade became the thinest of protection against the chill.

So he kept walking, kept trudging through the sand, following the stars, or at least trying to as he hoped against hope to reach a camp or a town or...spinning he held his breath as he listened to the silence searching for what he thought he heard. Searching for the horse he was sure was close by.

As he lungs forced him to take a breath he licked his lips, wincing as his dry tongue caught of split dry lips causing a just healed cut to start bleeding once again. Touching his finger to his lips he looked down at it but was unable to see anything in the light. 

Looking up at the stars he sighs as he feels his legs finally give out, his knees hitting the sand before he fell onto his back and just lay there, looking at the night sky, at the beautiful star strewn sky and for the first time he prays.

"Please...please just...let me live."

For a moment he thought he heard the horse again, its neigh just on the edge of his hearing, its hooves the slightest of vibration upon the ground. But it was wishful, it was all just wishful, a flight of fancy that his prayer had been heard. So he watched the stars, watched the sky as it moved, or rather he corrected himself, as the earth turned. 

Feeling the cold, but not reacting to it John let his breathing sooth him, the constant in and out, the regularity of it all, the pure act of keeping himself alive calming him, even as his body burned with cold, his head raged with pain and his mind kept on betraying him as the sound of the horse kept on getting closer.

"Please..." He whispered one last time into the night before his eyes closed and he let himself fall to darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ha!" Sherlock shouted as he reached the highest part of the dune, spinning his horse to watch as his companion caught up to him.

"I told you she was fast." Sherlock said with a smile as he ran a hand over the black mares neck.

"That she is. She will breed fine stock."

"Breed? I think not my friend. She is far to fine to waste to breeding. She shall be mine."

"If your brother allows it."

"Bah." Sherlock waves his hand dismissively. "Mycroft is off being king else where. Here I rule and I say that this beautiful creature shall be mine."

Sherlock smiles as the mare shakes her head letting out a whiny at his words. "See, she approves."

"Indeed my lord." The other says with a smile. "And her name?"

"A name..." Sherlock repeats as his hand moves over the black mane. "She deserves something stunning, strong beautiful. I shall have to think on this."

"Of course."

"Shall we race back Lestrade?"

"But of course." Lestrade answers turning his own horse as Sherlocks spins on the spot a couple of times as she picks up the command to prepare to run again. However before Sherlock gives the command his eyes catch something in the darkness at the bottom of the dune.

The mare bucks slightly under him, demanding his command to move but he calms her with a 'whow' and brings her quickly under control.

"My lord?" Lestrade asks, a frown on his face.

"There." Sherlock points.

"A man."

"A man." Sherlock kicks at the mares flanks sending her downward towards the man led out on the sand, Lestrade close behind. Once down, Sherlock jumps easily from the horse passing Lestrade the rains and moving to the clearly unconscious man, after all he just had two large horse race towards him with out so much as a flinch.

As he got closer he took in the mans clothing, unusual in style and colour and yet Sherlock knew they came from the modern world, a world his brother and family had tried hard to keep away from.

"Is he alive?" Lestrade asked as he jumped down from his own horse and walked closer with the two beasts.

Sherlock crouched down, brushing his long black robe behind him as he did so before reaching out and touching cold skin upon the neck of the man feeling for signs of life.

"There." Sherlock whispers feeling a pulse slowly and weakly beat against his fingers.

"He's alive. But not for much longer."

"He is a soilder."

"Yes, British by the cut of the clothing. Also a doctor, strange to find one of his skill also so well trained in combat."

"You see that even in the dark."

Sherlock looks up smiling at Lestrade. "Even now I surprise you."

"Even now." Lestrade answers in awe.

"Help me get him onto my horse, then ride ahead to get help."

"Your bother will not like that."

"My brother, as mentioned before, is not here. Now help me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little differnt....well a lot diffrent really. Sherlocks life will be explained through the story so please bare with it and all will be explained.


	3. Chapter 3

John was pretty sure that his plea would be his last ever. The darkness that had taken him had been so absolute, so consuming that he was sure it would be where he would stay forever.

Yet the feeling of something cold and wet upon his lips pulled him back like a fish caught on a line. Sucking in a deep breath as his mind connected the wet feeling on his lips with that of water he moaned as the deep dry cuts on his lips stung slightly and his extremely dry. tongue searched out more of the water.

Small drops landed on his mouth once again and his hand instinctively moved out, searching for the source of the most valuable thing in his life.

"Easy." A voice sounded, the vibrations of it deep tone running down his back causing him to shiver as more water fell onto his lips.

"More." John tried to say but it came out more in a gasped moan.

"All in good time golden hair."

John registered the name and the accent somewhere deep in his mind yet all his focus was on where the water was.

More drops fell on his lips and then the rim of something was pressed gently to his lips and the a small waterfall of water washed into his mouth. Taking the water willingly he lent his head back as the flask or whatever it was was taken away leaving him with a mouthful of water which he simply held in his mouth before swallowing, painfully. As the water hit his stomach he wrapped his arms around himself and went to lean forward but something held him across his chest, pulling him back.

"Deep breaths. Easy in and out, it will pass and you can have some more." The voice again vibrated down his back, but his stomachs churning over rid everything. He concentrated on not throwing up, his extremely empty stomach unhappy with it new contents. Once he settled he let his arms drop and once again lent his head back hoping that the act indicated he was ready for more. But as he lent back he finally registered everything else about his body. He was sat up, his legs straddling something, something warm, alive, and big and he was lent against something equally warm and just as alive but he knew the two beings to be separate.

"You're on a horse golden one. You're safe and, I wont let you fall."

The source of water returned then and he took another mouthful, this time swallowing slowly, letting it easy gently into his stomache. Once finished he opened his mouth for more and was given it.

"You have been in the deseart a while. Two days I reckon. I wounder how you came to be here." The voice became a relaxing feature as John drank, along with the horse gently moving beneath him and the arm that pinned him to the voice.

"You are most definitely military, British of course, you're pale, now rather tanned complexion screams British. You are also a doctor,  a contrast to your well trained soilder."

"More." Was all John replied, this time grabbing the flask as it was put to his lips.

Finally he opened his eyes and was greated by the stars, his head resting against what he now knew to be a shoulder. Taking a few more mouthfuls of water he lowered the flask, his eyes following it and taking in the vast dark desert before him and then seeing the horse he was sat upon. Watching the creature for a time he then looked down at the hand pressed to his chest, before leaning his head back once again.

"You should sleep." The voice said as the hand tightened against him.

"Who...you?" John asked even as his eyes closed, his head turning till his forehead pressed against warm skin.

"I am Sherlock."

"Sh...rlock." John whispered.

"Yes golden one."

"John." John offered as his body decided it had faught enough for now and pulled him back into darkness, his last memory being that of Sherlock saying his name for the first time.


	4. Chapter 4

Shifting John slightly Sherlock used his legs to guide his horse, the mare a natural at responding to his commands in what ever form it was given. He really did like the horse, she was a pleasure to ride and even with the added weight of another she showed no sign of being uncomfortable or tired.

"You are a gift my beauty." The horse raised her head at his voice, shaking her mane slightly before continuing her journey.

"Serenity." Sherlock said after a while. "Yes...you shall be Serenity."  
Serenity again lifted her head this time letting out a whinney as if agreeing with the name given to her.

Smiling Sherlock looked down at the man held in his arms and slowly the smile left. John’s head was lent back aginst his shoulder, his face turned toward Sherlock’s neck allowing Sherlock a view of the mans face.

Narrowing his eyes slightly he took in the burnt face, clear even in the darkened desert, stubble had grown upon his chin and cheeks making his whole appearance rugged and not at all what Sherlock was used to seeing. The males in his family all had full beards, apart from himself. He kept his short and styled, the blackness of it causing it to look thicker against his pale skin. Skin he had always been told to keep clear of the sun, hence the night ride. But they all looked well kept were John just looked; wild.

Tightening his arms as Serinty made her way down another dune he felt John's steady heart beat, thankful that it had increased in the time since he was found. At least the man was a fighter, Sherlock just hoped he would continue to fight in the coming days as his body recovered through dehydration and extreme sunburn.

"My Lord!" Lestrade sounded from ahead causing Sherlock to look up. Before him a rocky landscape appeared with Lestrade on his horse along with a troupe of others carrying a strecher between them.

As they got closer Sherlock found himself holding John tighter against him, his arms unwilling to let him go.

"I shall take him the rest of the way."

Sherlock said as everyone came together and stopped.

"My Lord?" Lestrade asked with a frown.

"You heard me. We are close to home and he is comfortable with our current position. I shall take him the rest of the way."

"Very well my lord." Lestrade turned the horse ushering the others away. "We have our healer waiting for him, and rooms have been made ready. Shall I try contacting one of his bases?"

"No, not until we know what happened."

"Of course."

As they neared the rocky outcrop they headed towards what looked to be a solid wall but they instead made their way through an area that twisted and turned leading through the rock until it opened up to more sand and another wall of rock before them.

Upon the wall of rock in front of them was an area cut through by white, even in the night it glowed, the domes upon the highest parts of the building reflecting the moonlight.

"Besides," Sherlock said as he looked down at John. "We cannot have our guest leave without seeing this first."

Lestrade smiled, causing Sherlock to smile back, missing the concerned look on Lestrades face when he turned away.

<https://imageshack.us/i/po1pUXYUp>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a link to a picture that got this story stuck in my head at the end of the chapter. It is an image of were Sherlock lives.
> 
> Also thank you to all that have read and left Kudos as well as bookmarked and subscribed.


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